Hey, folks.
So, I just returned from a lovely eight-day trip to Colorado. The first four days were spent in Boulder with one my best friends in the whole wide world, Erica. We rocked the house with general funness, including buying a new-to-her car. We also sold her old one in four hours on Craig’s List. I’m a new convert, for sure.
I spent the last four days in Denver at the National Performing Arts Convention. It was great, but overwhelming. Practitioners in the fields of dance, opera, choral music, theater, etc. came together for one giant convening. Interestingly, we encountered while we were there an instance of self-censorship amongst our ranks. I am going to write more about this incident on another occasion because I simply can’t wait to get to what I want to tell you about…
At Synchronicity, we do our shows at 7 Stages in Little 5 Points, but our offices are actually in downtown Atlanta in the actual 5 Points area (very close the Underground). We work here because the office space is donated to us, which is a fantastic contribution to our bottom line. For months we worked with construction noise and all sorts of bizarre occurances as the place was literally being built up around us, and then one day it just kind of stopped. There was still the occasional electrician here and there, but for the most part, you could tell the building was in a holding pattern. It’s run by a fellow who’s name is, of all things, Pat Swindall (insert jokes here), and he has this very loud and overbearing voice as he comes barrelling down the hall barking orders to his staff. On occasion, Mr. Swindall would come through leading a tour of young lawyers or other professionals who were considering renting the office spaces all around us.
So, one day, just before I left for Colorado, a very interesting looking tour came through the building as I was walking down the hall–an entire entourage of very well dressed, very good looking African-American men. Pat pointed at our offices, and said “This is Synchronicity Theatre. They’re a great bunch of ladies to work around and can tell you all about the arts in this town. Girls, you can work around the Obama campaign, can’t you?”
Excuse me? The Obama Campaign?
Rachel, Amy, and I looked at each other, looked at them and said….
“Yes, we can!”
Unfortunately, we sort of geeked out and unleashed a few more cliches on them about how it would be a welcome “change,” etc. But, I think they were amused.
Anyway, the entire time we were in Colorado, I would think about it, and sure as the world, when I got to work, here they are. It worked out. They signed the contract and they’re here. But here’s the hilarious thing. The well-dressed gentlemen, have been replaced by droves of twentysomething white kids in their shorts, t-shirts, and khakis. But, ultimately it’s great. You can tell they’re ready to hoof it. They’re totally on fire. They don’t know where the bathroom is yet, or how to work the copier, but they’re so freakin’ excited.
And I am too. Sometimes I answer the door just to have the opportunity to walk up with one of them and find out what brought her here or whether he would like to join me for a cup of tea in my office at 3.
It’s going to be a great summer.